We walk along the waterfront without unnecessary turns, without any commas or question marks in our minds. We sit and drink coffee in the deep shade, carefully avoiding the midday sun.
We apply two finger lengths of sunscreen on our faces, as they say we should. We don’t run into the sea like children, but one inch at a time, carefully soaking our hands before diving in.
We don’t stay long in the sea and swim without a mask and fins, just to cool off from the summer heat. People around us don’t even know what the underwater world looks like. I inhale deeply because I’m suddenly short of breath. Or is it melancholy?
As I inhale, my lungs fill with salt, pine and resin. The same smell as all childhood summers. Around me is that same deep, unknown sea that I used to explore and turn over and search as a child, just to understand it a little bit more.
I reach out from the shadow and feel the warmth around my heart.
I close my eyes to enjoy the play of sunlight and the shadows of pine branches. I stretch my feet towards the sea. It readily tickles, hugs and invites them to itself.
I laugh at myself. Why do I forget to bring a mask and fins when I go to the sea these days? Why do I walk in a straight line these days, why do I choose the shortest path to my destination, when left and right are waiting for me lonely scenes that want to be photographed, drawn and sung about? Why is it no longer my goal to get to the sea bottom, dive among the rocks and look if there is any kind of sea snail or starfish that I have not seen yet?
This time, I take the mask before going to the sea.
I run quickly into the sea, just like I used to. I dive with my eyes closed and open them when I’m already halfway to the bottom of the sea. When I open my eyes like that, after the blackness I am washed over by the most beautiful explosion of bright colours
and life.
I dive and swim until my fingers shrivel because that means I swam enough for now.
I let the sun caress my cheeks and shoulders.
I inhale as deeply as I can, my lungs fill with salt, pine and resin.
I close my eyes so I could enjoy the play of sunlight and the shadows of the pine branches once again.
So I could be a child again.